


Minerva And The Way Home

by Queerious22



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:40:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26900773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queerious22/pseuds/Queerious22
Summary: Eventual HG/MM, Rated E, AU, OOC, CW: Child Abuse, mentions of Abuse4 week old Minerva is placed with Cygnus and Druella Black as closest blood relation. But wait.  She is the Chosen One?  And a half-blood? How will that work?  Du du duuuun..AU in which Minerva's, Hermione's and other characters' ages are changed, and Minerva is The Child Who Lived.  Some characters OOC. Rated E to be on the safe side for later chapters. Will have surprise pairings in later chapters.
Relationships: Cygnus Black/Druella Rosier Black, Filius Flitwick/Pomona Sprout, Hermione Granger/Minerva McGonagall, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	1. The Child Who Lived

**Author's Note:**

> Minerva is 4 weeks old when the story starts. Many characters' ages have been changed. I will include a character list naming their ages and relationships at the end of some chapters because even I am getting confused lol. This chapter is 3 parts. I will put a character list at the end of this chapter.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any characters.

Minerva And The Way Home

Chapter 1

The Child Who Lived

-Part 1

Druella Black placed a rocking charm on the cradle to quiet the screaming brat and resumed her extensive hair regime, white blonde hair eventually being cajoled into a high wispy bun. She had no patience for children. She never had. Where was that ratty house elf they had put in charge of this screeching wretch? She had thought she was done with it all (marrying the youngest off to the Malfoy boy). She leered with disdain at the thing she was now saddled with.

3:00 am November 1st 1981

The infant had been placed in a basket and deposited in the Black fireplace via the floo network. They had failed to catch a glimpse at who left the bundle. At hearing the floo activate, Cygnus had hurried into the drawing room, only to see a flurry of dark colored robes disappearing back through green flames, and the crying child left in the soot. 

Cygnus and Druella were indignant, attempting to find a magical signature and then spending the better part of an hour quarreling over how they were to get rid of it. They did have the decency to take the unfortunate child out of the ashes and set her on the table, still in the basket.

It was crying again. 

"Damn it all", Druella screamed, picking up and shaking the infant. 

Cygnus scowled. They could simply place the baby back in the fireplace. Afterwards, they would light it. No one would be the wiser. 

Druella noticed an envelope had fallen out of the blankets and on to the floor. She bent down to retrieve it, tore it open and read the enclosed letter.

"House of Black, Blood of mother. Her blood be touched by no other. That foul creature who seeks life to shed. He shed blood that lives on instead. His strength now drained, he lives in death. His anger, his danger. His hate, her power. His last death will be her first free breath. If his foot this threshold cross, his final life's blood will then be bought. Druella Black. You have been found, and as nearest blood, are hereby bound. 

Minerva is her name."

The letter was unsigned.

Druella dropped the piece of paper, aghast. Her sister was dead. Isobel Rossier.. Was dead. Druella looked at her hands and found them trembling. She hadn't seen Isobel since she married the muggle, Robert McGonagall, Isobel henceforth being been disowned by the Rossiers. (Much like she and Cygnus cast their blood traitor daughter out for marrying Ted Tonks) All those years of trying to forget she had a sister. Now the mongrel of that uneven union was to remain in her house?

Meanwhile, Cygnus had picked up the letter. "We hae bin left wi' a tayney fuhk trophy!?"

........

3:01 am November 1st 1981

Hermione stepped out of the fireplace, neglecting to vanish the soot from deep burgundy robes. 

Also not bothering to say goodbye to Albus, she trudged out of his office and back to her rooms. 

It was all she could do to drag herself to the armchair closest to the door and fall into it. 

She buried her face in her hands. The feelings of guilt caught up to her and she just sat rooted to the spot. Wondering what had possessed her to go through with Albus' plan. If she had seen anyone else put a four week old infant in the fireplace of that family and leave, she would have cast a sectumsempra on them.

Oh Albus had ran through this with her. Many times. Blood wards and the fidelius charm would work together to protect the child... Voldemort would seek to continue being hosted by the Blacks. Did Albus count on him simply not noticing being denied entry?? 

Sure with Voldemort's weakened state, it would be a while before he was ready to rejoin his followers. But when it did happen.. The whole validity of Albus' plan was next to non existent. It all worked against itself. There was something she wasn't being told. And Hermione had never borne this well.

Albus' reasoning was, that the Blacks being the closest blood relation to the baby, their Manor would be able to be blood warded against the Dark Lord. Also, the Blacks were viewed as Voldemort's most loyal supporters. Being right under his nose, the child would not be suspected to be the one he had tried to destroy. Hermione had never heard anything so daft in all her 46 years. 

For one.. The Blacks will know this is the child Voldemort is looking for. Could it get any easier than that? All they would have to do is hand her over and the war for blood purity would be fought and won. 

Second, assuming Albus lied about the blood wards (and the entirety of wizarding England was in peril if Albus was willing to be deceitful in this) and there was nothing keeping the Dark Lord away from Black Manor, Voldemort knew what the child looked like. Would the fidelius charm be able to hide something from him that was right under his nose? Sure there were glamours. All it would take to get past those was a simple identification spell. And with the Blacks playing host to him and his cronies sporadically, they dropping in sometimes without warning... That's without taking into account the scar. Voldemort had left a scar in the shape of a crescent on her forehead. No amount of concealment charms covered it. Hats etc. would help and as the child grew it could also be covered by hair. But again, if the Dark Lord wanted to know, it would be inevitable. That Albus didn't consider this in itself was beyond ludicrous.

Third was, Voldemort views the children of his followers as ready recruits. He goes to great lengths to influence young minds, as evidenced by his pursuit of the Defense Against The Dark Arts teaching position, and later, arranging the marriages of two of the Black sisters to death eaters. No matter how insignificant the child would seem in the Black house, Voldemort needed followers. And he knew where to get them. 

.......

Hours later, Hermione stretched from her uncomfortable position in the chair, realizing that she had been sleeping. And crying. She rubbed her hands over her tear stained face and slowly made her body rise. Hogwarts afforded many amenities, including comfy seating, but the aging process had also given a few presents, durable bones and muscles not among them. 

Stepping under the shower head, she let the warm spray soothe her stiff muscles, intent on calming her mind and overtaxed nerves.

Another reason this arrangement was bound to fail: The Blacks would be constantly trying to rid themselves of their burden. Blood wards only served to keep the unwanted out.. Not to keep the unwanted (unwanted by Cygnus and Druella) in.

The shower had not calmed her. Rather, she was now filled with unbridled rage at Albus Dumbledore for his either slight in judgement and lack of proper planning, or his blatant deceit. Either terrified her. And not considering the opinions of his Deputy Headmistress. Her undried hair was already frizzing from all her angry energy. She was done with his bloody secrets and foolhardiness. Most of all though, she was furious with herself. For carrying it out. For willingly submitting an innocent to a life of abuse. She knew the Blacks' cruelty. She had taught several of them. She knew enough to know that they didn't treat their own children well. What would happen to a child they hated if such child was left in their care? The baby was younger than her 15 month old, for Merlin's sake. Which bore the question: would she have done the same if Minerva were her own? 

Switching off the tap, Hermione stepped gingerly out of the claw foot tub and towelled off. 

But what could she have done? Take the babe and run? That wouldn't arouse suspicion at all, she thought dryly. 

It was Monday. Classes would begin soon and Hermione didn't know how she was going to get through today. Or the week for that matter. It was times like this when she greatly missed the support of her husband Ron. She stayed with him and her daughter Rose on weekends and holidays. Either that or they came to Hogwarts. Also she was able to spend time with them frequently at social events, at times spending the night with her family, or vice versa when things ran late. Staff and students alike adored the baby, and the house elves in particular treated her as royalty. Ron didn't achieve quite the same, not being as cute, but was lovable enough and was accepted and respected. 

Deciding against fire calling him, Hermione dressed, donning her black teaching robes. She couldn't tell even him what was bothering her and Ron would know something wasn't right. Albus had impressed upon her the need for absolute secrecy. Another reason Hermione was so infuriated with Albus right now. She hated things being kept from her. Even more, she hated keeping secrets from others. Especially her family.

.......

Classes dragged on, the head ache drought she'd taken wearing off near the middle of the day, necessitating a second. And soon after, a third. She stopped at three, as Poppy was giving her pointed glares.

Dinner saw Hermione leaning back in her chair gazing through students with one hand at her temple and the other fiddling idly with her fork. 

A Slytherin and Hufflepuff were in hysterics about something. Her 7th year niece Lily Luna appeared to be discussing quidditch with a younger Gryffindor.  
At the professor's table, the Headmaster was being pleaded with by the young Potions Master to consider him for the Defense position when it became open again. It was shaping up to be a night like any other when Hermione felt a diminutive hand on her shoulder.

"You are not fooling anyone with those glamours, Professor. Talk later? Pomona and I are both off duty tonight if you would like company?"

Her first inclination being to refuse, Hermione replied with what was going to be a polite rebuttal. "Filius. Discerning as always.." 

"Merely.... I've.. I've only some years in the field yet, but I've gotten rather adept at charms. I know what to look for. Are you quite alright?"

She turned to Filius, her eyes now betraying hurt and anger. Seeing the kind and unassuming face of her friend, her anger left, as did her composure. Running in two rivulets down her cheeks. 

Chancing a glance around the Great Hall, she ushered them out, Filius giving a quick covert sign to Pomona, who was engrossed in a conversation with Professor Hooch, but acknowledged them both with a slight nod.

Once in Filius and Pomona's shared quarters, Hermione choked on her words. 

"Oh, Filius. It's so dreadful." 

When all had been said, it seemed that poor Filius would remain mute and unmoving on the plush cream colored loveseat, having sat there for a good few minutes.

When she poured them both more tea, Filius cleared his throat. 

"Right, well.. This is bad." 

Hermione looked up at the ceiling, then put her hands to her face. Sitting in silence, they racked their brains over what could be done.

Pomona breezed in shortly afterward. 

"Sorry, dears, I was helping some first years with getting in the Hufflepuff Common Room. It seems that Peeves had jinxed our barrel- She stopped at noticing the atmosphere of the sitting room. "My, what's got you two in such a state? Hermione, I haven't seen you this put out since what happened with your parents in the war with Grindelwald." Hermione had had a pretty sordid experience involving her obliviation of her parents during that war.

Hermione told once more how she had been an implement in giving The Child Who Lived over to a fate worse than Azkaban. When she finished, Pomona's eyes were glassy with unshed tears.

Filius suddenly sat up straighter, causing Pomona to shift next to him. "Hermione.. This may be as erroneous as Dumbledore's scheme, but.. I've been thinking about this since you told me the issue, and the more I think about it the more doable it seems. The Room Of Requirement? He'd never find her there, especially with a fidelius charm. And as for that, even with my limited expertise in charms (wise, thoughtful and wickedly smart as Filius was, he was only 26 and he acknowledged where he had room to grow.. no pun intended), I am still quite the decent charms master. And my heritage as half goblin affords me many strengths. I would match if not exceed Voldemort in power. Not to brag, but there is a reason that goblins are not allowed wands in the wizarding world.. We would, however, have to decide on another secret keeper. And we should probably find out who Albus has made secret keeper."

Hermione suppressed the anger that surged forth yet again at Albus upon her recollection of being informed (lied to?) by Albus when she became Deputy Headmistress that the school had protections in place that, added together, were stronger than blood wards. So why had he not gone with this option? Hermione tried not to think negatively. They had the potential to make this child very safe indeed. 

She shook her head incredulously. "So that's why you froze earlier. Filius! You're a genius!" 

Pomona giggled smugly. "I really do know how to pick them" she cooed, running her nails down Filius' cheek. 

Filius blushed a deep crimson, sputtering and stuttering about how he was the lucky one. Then to Hermione, he said, "Sorry I didn't mention it sooner. Chances are, it won't work."

"I'll take those chances over the current ones", Hermione replied softly, placing a hand on his knee.

Pomona turned to Hermione. "The Room will provide everything she needs, of course except childcare. Do you think you could wrangle Ron and the baby up and get them here? Filius and I can take over nights when you two aren't available, and during the day when and if we can.. When all of us four are busy, I'm sure the elves would love to be of some help." 

"That will be perfect." Working nights, Ron would be afforded time during the day to care for both children. She just needed to get him to agree. It was all falling together quite seamlessly.

They tentatively planned to bring Ron and Rose to Hogwarts while repairs were being done on their house. This ploy would work, at least temporarily while they thought up a more long term solution for her family to need to stay at Hogwarts. After Ron and the baby were set up, they would get Minerva from Black Manor. Hermione sent a patronus to Ron, informing him of what was happening and begging his cooperation. She would send one to the Blacks when closer to time, notifying them of her impending visit and purpose. She suspected they would not have an issue with her taking what they likely viewed as a burden. Afterwards she would plant the belief in their minds that the child was abducted while they slept. 

She was loath to perform another memory spell. She obliviated her parents, sending them to Australia in order to protect them. When she tried to restore their memories, the spell went awry. Her parents were now permanent patients of a mental hospital in West London. 

Still, this seemed like the most solid solution they were likely to come up with.

Saying a warm goodnight to Filius and Pomona, Hermione made her way back to her rooms. 

The next morning, sleepless but with a renewed vigor in her step, Hermione went down to greet the day. 

"Morgana's tits, Hermione, have you heard of sleep??" 

Hermione flashed a bright smile at the spiky haired flying instructor as she stood from her chair after breakfast. She must have forgotten her glamours. "Long night grading".

"Uh-huh" was murmured as Ro walked with her to the door. And then, hesitant and still under her breath: "Some kid write "clitorio" on every question having to do with the engorgement spell again?"

"Ro!"

She didn't notice curious blue eyes following them out of the Great Hall.


	2. The Child Who Lived - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second part of three part chapter. I hope it's well received! Love to all.

Minerva And The Way Home

Chapter 1

The Child Who Lived

\- Part 2  
_____

Albus' behavior seemed to convey that he suspected nothing. At the end of their conversation Tuesday regarding her family's arrival, he did call attention to her demeanor being very different from the day before. To which Hermione raised her occlumency shield and avoided meeting his eyes. She loved the old man. She loved him dearly, even with his secrets and apparent lies. But she couldn't trust him and couldn't let him get inside her head. Too much was at stake and she was so close to her goal. 

He sighed. "You're my friend and I'm glad you are happy in any case. And of course, your family is welcome at Hogwarts for however long is necessary."

Hermione did feel terribly guilty, accepting hospitality and kind words when she was about to betray him. But damnit all, he had broken her heart. And he was the one who put them in this predicament.

As she was heading for the door, Albus said, " One last thing, Hermione." She turned, seeing the corner of his mouth twitch.

"Yes?" 

"I do think I made the right choice with the McGonagall baby."

Not knowing how to respond, Hermione simply gave a trembling half smile and left. 

Riding down the winding staircase from the Headmaster's office, Hermione felt a lone tear trail down her face. 

___________

12:00 am November 6th 1981

Cygnus woke and rolled over onto his back. Much to his pleasure, the elves had kept the bairn quiet and out of sight for the majority of the time it had been in Black Manor. 

And it had been a hell of a day. 

Earlier:

Sitting down to have a breakfast of ham and eggs, he set his coffee to stirring. Today they would visit the ministry of magic and request a tracking of their floo. With his ties to the ministry, he mused gleefully, they might even be able to get them to take this burthen half-breed.

Opening the Daily Prophet, he choked on his bitter beverage. The face of his daughter laughed up at him. Cringing, he read that his daughter Bellatrix and a few others had been caught for the torture of Frank and Alice Longbottom. Their trial was set for today at two.

"Druella! We need tae lea eairly fur th' ministry." If there was one thing Cygnus hated it was a tainted reputation. He would get there early and turn things around.

"One moment. I am putting on my stockings". 

"Hurry up an' pat th' blasted things on then. Ah hae nae got a' day. Ah might go wi'out ye."

And so they went to the ministry with a twofold purpose. 

Crossing the dark polished floor of the Atrium, they came to a pair of golden gates. They went into the small hallway behind the gates and first took a lift to Level One to see if some arrangement could be made with the minister to free Bellatrix and clear the name of Black. The relatively new minister of magic, Millicent Bagnold, was not to be trifled with, and the Blacks no sooner walked into the minister's office than walked out. Cygnus guessed as the door snicked closed behind them that the reason they were seen at all is because the woman wanted it to look as though she was being fair and just in hearing them out.

Back in the lift, they would stop at Level Four. Then to the Department of Magical Transportation before heading down to Level Ten where the proceedings were to be held. 

The Being Division of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures had alliances with two operations which were of importance to Cygnus. One being the orphan ward of St Mungo's, the other Answing Hothings, wizarding England's orphanage. Both places were however, according to the clerk at the front desk, full and not currently taking children. Cygnus knew this to be false. The orphan ward he could believe might be full. The hospital could have a random influx of patients at any given time. Some of those patients leaving orphaned children behind. Other children were simply in need of medical care and having no family, were stuck in the orphan ward until the impairment was gone or the child reached the age of majority. Still others were put in the orphan ward because of the stigma associated with Answing Hothings. Respectable members of wizarding society didn't give their children up to an orphanage. Answing Hothings was it's own entity. If you gave a child to Answing Hothings, you gave it to an actual orphanage. If you gave it to the orphan ward in St Mungo's, you placed it in a unit within a hospital, another entity. You were less likely to be faulted and ridiculed if it was thought your child was simply permanently ill. The hospital put up a front of not taking children that had no medical issues. But the administrator was easily bribed. This is how St. Mungo's was at times full.. If it was to capacity, they were sent to Answing from St. Mungo's. However, England barely had a wizarding orphanage. It was practically unnecessary, most orphans being placed with other family, or going to muggle orphanages, or St Mungo's if it wasn't full. But the Being Division employee would also not be swayed by Cygnus' bribes and veiled threats. 

"Tempus" he gruffed, dragging Druella with him back to the lifts. They still had about an hour before the hearing. Once in the lift, he rounded on his wife. 

"Am ah delusional, or am ah correct in thinking that yer warming tae th' idea o' keeping th' paukit bugger?" 

Druella's mind appeared to short circuit for a few beats. "You are delusional.. I don't want the brat"

"It seems a'm th' yin aff tae muchly lengths 'n' yer simply riding alang on th' back o' mah broom. Ah think that if it weren't fur me, you'd huv a go playing Mommy."

Druella squinted at her husband. "You've got me figured out, have you? I tell you, I have no desire to have this malignancy in our home."

His beady eyes bore into hers. "Ah surmise otherwise." 

The Floo Division employees were not likewise impervious to Cygnus' tactics. They would send someone to inspect their floo tomorrow. 

They were promptly escorted back to the telephone booth from which they came when the previously stagnant Druella had snatched the cane of a passing woman, swinging and hitting a ministry employee, he not conceding to allow them into Courtroom Ten.

That was it then. He was being denied simple privileges when before his influence had gained him everything. Wizarding England was working against them, it seemed. 

They managed to catch Bellatrix's parting words before being led from Level Ten as she was taken away with Crouch Jr. and the Lestrange brothers. 

"The Dark Lord will rise again! He will rise again and will come for his faithful ones, for we alone tried to find him! Azkaban has no ruling authority over Voldemort!"

Cygnus and Druella seethed, Cygnus furious that the Black image was further tarnished by his own daughter, and his wife. Their name had come to mean something. Feeling the stares as they were led out of the building, Cygnus shuddered, concluding that it was now infamy that the Black name signified.

.......

12:20 am November 6th 1981

He glanced at his sleeping wife. He could have done better, he thought, staring at her back. He lamented that there would be no sons to carry on the Black line. His brother Orion's wife had borne him a son, but the young chap had died two years ago. (He would never view the Gryffindor as a Black). All Druella had given him was females. And now what did he get from her? A half-blood female. A wee wankstain female that they were unable to get rid of. 

......

12:40 am November 6th 1981

Druella kept her breath deep and even, not wanting to alert Cygnus that she was awake. Muddled thoughts had kept her from drifting off. 

When Cygnus and Druella arrived home from the Ministry that day, they had received a howler in a nondescript voice. It said that the boundaries of the blood wards that were put up for the child's sake prevented them from getting rid of, or killing the child. Anywhere they left the infant, with a view to not bringing her home, it would immediately be as if a sticking charm had been inacted, and the child would stick to them until they arrived at the Black house. If they aimed to destroy her, they would be killed by the same method, but would not suceed in harming their desired victim. If they hired someone to carry it out, the same would happen to all guilty parties.

Cygnus had for the second time in one week, flew into a tirade, spouting his vitriol and revulsion at Druella in a string of English and Gaelic profanities.

"A'm cursed in ye", he said when he had calmed a bit. "Wa shuid Ah be obliged tae feed another's issue? How shuid Ah feel leal tae yer kin? Ah am nae affined tae 'at bairn."

Druella couldn't stave off the sting. Even though she loathed her sister's marriage to the muggle, and that a child had come of it, her Rossier pride was bruised.

"Why are we married, Cygnus?" 

"Aha! ye dae want th' bairn. Yer as mingin' as th' monster. An' ye ken how come ah marrried ye. Ah wanted male heirs, damn ye. Ah wanted mah generation carried on. An' ye hae given me three bitches an' yin hybrid creature."

"What would you have me do? There is no way to dispose of it. What is more, I'm not responsible for it's being here."

"But ye arenae eager tae see it gone. Every effort tae 'at end has bin made by me. Either ye want it here, ur yer jist plain indolent."

A new resentment was building in Druella on top of the revulsion she already felt toward her sister and her sister's spawn. And for whoever Left the thing in their fireplace. And was growing tenfold every day they were forced to keep it in their house. Her husband was turning against her. And if anyone ever found out they had taken in a half blood, they would become outcasts. And Druella wasn't stupid. This was the child that their Lord couldn't kill. This was the Child Who Lived that they had read about in the prophet and heard anxious whispers of in the streets. This child could bring destruction on them. One look at the forehead or into the eyes, and Voldemort would know. Cygnus had not yet realized. He hadn't looked at the child close enough to see the crescent moon on it's forehead. He was so adamant about removing the half-blood from the Manor. It was just a matter of time.

She thought about his statement that if it weren't for him, she'd "huv a go playing Mommy". Druella had never even wanted to be a mother. Cygnus was the one who wanted children. She had gotten pregnant at 16 and had hated children ever since.

Also plaguing her mind was the fiasco that transpired at the ministry today, ultimately culminating in them being made to leave. She didn't know what had come over her when she had wacked that bastard clerk. That must have done loads for their reputation. And she shuddered to think what people thought of them now that Bellatrix had not only been convicted of a heinous crime, but also shouted her loyalties to all of wizarding society. It seemed perfectly asinine to go to such lengths to ensure your stay in prison and your family name's fall from grace. Honestly, did she think she would be able to serve their Lord better from Azkaban? In which case she was farther gone than Druella had thought and should stay in Azkaban. 

She was vaguely cognizant of a silver otter skittering into her line of vision. 

......

Concerning Ron's and Hermione's home, the roof required reshingling and repair (because Hermione, late one night, magically demolished the roof, making it look the result of a storm). The upstairs bathroom needed gutting and renovation (because Hermione had rotted the wood, then conjured wood boring beetles to do what they did best to the walls and floor. She sped up the infestation process and now the tub was one randy insect away from falling through to the first level of the house). Other things had been done, of course, Hermione smiling serenely as she crumbled chocolate chip biscuits in a bowl, sprinkling over them a large helping of Weasley Wizard Wheezes U-No-Poo pills, then mashed the gooey mixture down the kitchen sink with a fork. She then poured a generous amount of lard left over from a previous dinner down the drain and cast warming and cooling spells in quick succession. Ron watched in amazement as she now soured several gallons of milk and proceeded to flood their beautifully carpeted living room. He was not innocent in the process. A bit of an argument had set them somewhat behind schedule. Kidnapping a child, however warrented, and however fake, could cost everyone involved their jobs and land them in Azkaban. Also they all had the kinds of jobs they wouldn't be able to go back to if they were ever released from Azkaban, Hermione, Pomona and Filius being professors, and himself being an auror. But, true to his love for Hermione, he had conceded to let this happen and after further convincing, to participate. He was responsible for the rafters in the attic being divorced from the ceiling, and a few other bits of destruction. Midway, he began to show feelings of remorse and apprehension. "All this when we might not even succeed?" he had stated, and then changed his tune again at Hermione's assertion that both of them would do the same for their child. That she should have never obeyed Albus in the first place. Her blood boiling anger at Albus resurfaced and she hastened demolishing her home, catching them up to speed. They might have had a tad too much fun with it all. The more repairs needed, though, the more time would be bought. And they needed time. They needed 17 years worth of time, but they could figure that out later. Through all of their work, Rose had stayed the night with Molly and Arthur, the grandparents being happy to have some needed time with her.

They lived near Surrey, in order for Rose to be close to the muggle grammar school they wanted her to start at when the time came. So every repair would have to be done the muggle way, this being the reason Hermione had chosen this path of action. Hermione was immensely grateful for their well paying jobs, choosing to remain optimistic that they would not lose them.

It had taken longer than desired to get repairs started, but Friday evening saw Ron Weasley at the gates of the castle with his daughter on his hip. Hermione went to meet them, pulling a squealing Rose into her arms and dropping a kiss on her button nose, then leaning in to peck Ron on the lips.

"Missed you, love," she said, earning her a grin and a kiss in return. 

"We missed you too. You and Filius all set to head to the Blacks'?"

"We are."

.........

6:00 pm November 6th 1981

Hermione and Filius were outside the gates of the Blacks. Trepidation flooded through their veins at seeing the tall rectangular collumns of stone supporting the flat top archway to Black Manor. Above the archway read, "FUIL FÌOR-GHLAN AN-CÒMHNAIDH"* in engraved letters and underneath was the Black coat of arms. Seven black snakes twisted themselves down each of the columns in a convoluted pattern, ending with their heads on the ground, each facing a different direction, fangs unabashedly visible. Hermione sent her second patronus into the Black Manor and a minute later, the form of a swan appeared, letting them know that their entrance was granted. Then they advanced up the walk and up the three sections of stone steps. Black winding snakes were used for hand rails. 

Upon reaching the foreboding door, they were greeted by an angry looking elf with untrusting eyes draped in a scanty piece of cloth. 

"Rights this way, Mister and Miss. You sees the Master and the Mistress Blacks in the parlor", he informed them, pointed ears laid back against a small head as he led the way from the resplendent entry hall.

" 'Twas ye 'at cam ben uir fireplace an' left 'at rotten 'alf-bluid," Cygnus accused softly from the parlor doorway before they had reached it.

Hermione squared her shoulders, wand at the ready beneath her cloak. "It was I, yes," she stated, steeling her spine and gathering her resolve.

He turned an ugly shade of purple.  
"Get th' lot o' ye th' hell aff o' mah property. If ah ever see th' likes o' ye again ah will nae hesitate tae murdurr ye." 

Cygnus had sent for the child from the house elves, an elf now standing silently with the baby bundled up and ready for cold weather. 

The poor house elf, apparently having meant to say something concerning the bottle and bink she had in one hand, now simply handed over baby and all to Hermione. 

"We will be on our way then, good sir," Filius supplied, moving to the door alongside Hermione and the baby.

"Do tak' th' floo! Ye waur nae hesitant tae make use o' it before."

Hermione slowly turned round. The only fireplace connected to the network at Hogwarts was in the Headmaster's office and she was loath to floo to her house. The fireplace was still intact, but the house was in general a shambled muck and she'd rather not walk through it with a baby in her arms. 

Filius, ever the gallant hero lately, stepped in to save the day. "Come, Professor," he coaxed, gently guiding her into the parlor and to the fireplace. "Pomona is expecting us to dinner at our place any minute." In Hermione's ear, he whispered "Branbury Cottage." 

Hermione, not wasting any time, scooped up floo powder in her hand from a bowl on the black marble mantle. As she went to throw it in the flames, she heard Druella's cold, calculated voice.

"You made the worst mistake bringing that abomination here. How dare you assume that we would minister to a half-blood child? Expend effort to keep it safe? If Cygnus doesn't end you upon meeting you again, I bloody will. And your two little half-breeds too." The smirk could be read in Druella's voice as she said the last. 

Hermione didn't turn around but threw the powder and stepped forward. She wasn't willing to wait around and dispute ethics. Saying the destination, she felt the pull and was then standing in a dark, unfamiliar fireplace with the child. 

"My father's place," Filius said as he stepped out after her. "It's empty but maintained. We can apparate to the Hogwarts gates as soon as we get outside the wards." 

"You are astounding, Filius," Hermione declared, walking with him through the dimly lit cottage. "We should apparate to the Hog's Head though. There is a passage that connects the Hog's Head with the Room Of Requirement, and I know Aberforth won't tattle to Albus. Ron said he'll be there to open it for us." She cast a warming charm on the baby and held her closer against her chest as they descended the front steps. 

"Oh? And how would you know of secret passages, Professor?"

Hermione eyed him mirthfully. "I haven't always been as uptight as I tout to the student body, and the young teachers like you", she snickered. "There were a pair of twins - Wait! Their memories-" 

"Have been modified. Don't fret, Professor. We are out of the woods. For now at least. And the house elves will not divulge information unless asked. All evidence is removed of the child and of us, however, so I have confidence they will not be asked."

"Filius." She stopped and waited till he turned around. "Call me Hermione from now on," she said. Filius flashed a smile and nodded. They continued walking, their feet crunching on snow and leaves. "You have long crossed the barrier of colleague to friend. And I am proud to call you a friend."

"I'm proud to call you a friend as well, Hermione", he replied, the smile not leaving his voice. "Anyway, continue." 

"Fred and George Weasley. A couple years before me in school, my husband's brothers, you might know them?" Filius gave a short laugh and nodded. "They made a map, and in my third year, they gave it to my friend Harry. The map shows the whereabouts of everyone in the castle, their names labeled above them. Also, classrooms, hallways and hidden passageways were shown. It had its drawbacks but it proved useful to Harry, Ron and I, and to others. When it got into the hands of those who were known as the Marauders, it was named The Marauders' Map. Don't look at me like that, Filius!" 

Filius laughed heartily. "I am not looking at you like anything and I'll bet it did help a great deal." 

She smirked and let him off the hook. 

She was happy that Pomona had found love, even if it was with someone many years younger. She and the herbology professor were in the same year at Hogwarts. She knew how picky Pomona could be when it came to choosing a partner. She had spent the majority of her life single. Hermione couldn't blame her of course. It did pay to have high standards in that regard.

She sent a patronus to Ron letting him know that they were near. Not even a minute afterward, Ron's Jack Russell Terrier appeared. "Hermione. Come to your rooms instead of the Room Of Requirement. I'll explain when you get here. Love you"

Hermione blinked a couple times and sent another patronus to Ron. "Ron. We are coming from the Hogshead, remember? We need you to open the portrait for us." Lovable as Ron was, he could be awfully daft. 

After receiving a second patronus from Ron in the affirmative, Hermione pulled out the invisibility cloak she had borrowed from Harry. "Filius, I am going to hand Minerva to you and you will have to wear the invisibility cloak over the two of you. We can't go through Hogsmeade with this child in plain sight and as much as I admire the old wizard, we can't answer questions about her right now, especially if there are patrons in the Hog's Head. As I am the more respected of the two of us, he will be more likely to let me through the passage.

Filius agreed and draped the cloak over himself and Minerva. They apparated to the Hogshead and went inside. Aberforth was glad to see Hermione but immediately noticed something was off.

"What's got you sneaking in like a bandit?" he asked not unkindly when she requested use of the passage. 

Hermione looked at the floor, grimacing. Then looked into the blue orbs that were so like his brother's. 

"Aberforth. If we tell you.. it's imperative that you tell no one. Have you got an empty room?"

.......

"Took you long enough," Ron said as he opened the passage.

"Long conversation with Aberforth," Hermione answered as they walked.

"Oh?"

"You know I hate lying, Ron. I had to tell Abe why we wanted in the passage."

"He was understanding," Filius said. "I was relieved. His face was somewhat daunting when I pulled off the invisibility cloak."

"I assume the Blacks were less than understanding."

"Indeed," she said. "Eager to see her go, but quite unamused.

"It is fun to play with understatements," quipped Filius. 

They trudged / floated / were carried on. Albus was out of the castle today of all days, and Hermione marveled at what a good fortune that had been. Hermione had left Pomona in charge of the students while she and Filius were gone. She hadn't planned it. She wouldn't go to such lengths to betray her friend and employer. The coincidental circumstance just happened to suit their situation. Hermione had, however, opted to still use the passage leading to the Room Of Requirement in case he arrived back early.

.......

Muggles strode by him down the pavement. Buses and taxi cabs passed, sloshing cold mud onto black matte shoes and pinstriped trousers. He had transfigured his clothing to muggle attire in order to remain unremarkable as he plodded down the streets of Whitehall.

Walking, pacing. This is what Albus Dumbledore did when he needed to clear his head. When he needed space. When his heart was hurting. And right now, his heart was aching, weighted down with confusion and overwhelming despondency.

Arriving at a dilapidated building on Charing Cross Road, he tucked himself inside. He would have a drink at the Leaky before flooing to the castle.

He inclined his head at the innkeeper Tom, and ordered a Berry Beetle Whiskey. He then sat heavily, placing his hat on the table in front of him. Running his fingers along the brim, he wondered idly why his world seemed to be falling apart.

That Brittain's current Lord Of Darkness was helpless was a minor step forward. It felt to Albus as if they had taken many steps backward to counteract it. 

He had been called to the Ministry of Magic to preside over the identification of a former student who had been in his care at Hogwarts. The young man had been indicted for thirteen counts of murder, among them his supposed close friend Peter Pettigrew. He had cast a blasting curse to divulge the Mcgonagall's location to Lord Voldemort, killing 12 muggles, and then he killed Peter when confronted over the deaths of Robert and Isobel. This is what saddened Albus the most, as Sirius was their closest friend, and a trusted member of the Order Of The Phoenix. Isobel had placed their lives in his hands, making him their secret keeper. They had made him the god father of their only child. This is how Sirius chose to repay them. By handing them over to death. It boggled Albus' mind. Sirius had always been the trouble maker sort in school. But Albus had never taken him to be one who would have his friends slaughtered. 

He spouted his ideology that "Death is the next great adventure". Albus truly believed that this was the case. But Death could be a cruel master. He didn't think he could ever greet it like a friend. 

It had taken so many loved ones from him. It was indiscriminate and thirsty.

Death first ripped it's way through Albus at the age of 18 when his mother died. That was the first time he felt like turning his back on those he loved, even though the guilt ate at his soul. That was the first moment that Albus Dumbledore felt trapped by love. 

He would give anything to feel trapped by love again. Because Death was wringing the life out of Albus. 

........

"Babieeee!" Rose cried, opening and closing her fists toward the bundle in Filius' arms when they arrived in her private rooms. She toddled over to Filius, red curls bouncing, to inspect the new arrival. Filius didn't have to lean down much to facilitate this process.

The baby stirred and woke, eyes blinking.

Ron chuckled. "Babieeee is her new favorite word. Come see the nursery."

"Nursery?" Hermione squeaked out.

"Indeed." Pomona beamed, leaning in a previously non existent doorway. 

There were other voices, Hermione noticed as she neared. 

"...is not a virtue, Godric. We will see the child soon enough."

Hermione stilled as the soft contralto graced her ears. She drew her eyes from Pomona to her husband, both their eyes full of mischief. 

Then coming closer to the doorway, she spied the owner of the voice. Rowena Ravenclaw, impossibly elegant and refined. Her inky blue black mane was pulled into a low bun. There was one streak of silver that made itself known throughout a silky twisted rope starting above her left temple and moving on to play hide and seek within the bun. She wore a set of sapphire and aqua robes which clung nicely to her thin frame and set off ice blue eyes. 

She quirked her mouth at Hermione and patted the space on the settee next to her, gesturing for Hermione to sit. 

On the settee across from Rowena was Godric Gryffindor, a robust man with dark auburn hair that was only just fading to grey. His lengthy beard looked to be nothing but a savage growth of brick red thorns and thistles as if he had enjoyed a very rare steak with maybe a little more enthusiasm than necessary. His cloak was scarlet and lined with gold. Under the cloak, he wore dress robes of brick red and black in a paisley pattern.

Helga Hufflepuff sat beside Godric with her legs crossed daintily in front of her. Her dimpled cheeks were ablaze with freckles. She wore a beaded black necklace that tucked itself into the recess of full cleavage. Strawberry blonde hair hung loosely in cascading waves down her freckled shoulders and back. Her brown eyes were glinting softly in the firelight that shone from across the room.

Spread out with one leg draped over the arm of a gold gilted armchair was Salazar Slytherin. He had discarded his robe, laying it over the back of the chair he was lounging in, along with his hat. He wore a waistcoat over a dress shirt that was coming untucked from skin tight trousers. On his feet were knee high boots with cross strap laces. All of his clothing, from the top of his pointed hat to the tip of his pointed toes, were in shades of pink. 

Here were the four that founded and built this school nearly 1000 years ago, the four who made and represented each of the Hogwarts houses. Four individuals who had long since passed beyond the veil from this mortal coil, were sipping tea and munching biscuits in the nursery of her quarters.

Rose made her way into the room (clearly already having been in here as there were toys strewn about) and meandered through table legs and human legs, stopping to run her wheeled duck along the table top.

"Tea, dear?" Rowena offered, pouring her a cup and sitting back with a smirk .

Hermione sat down numbly, neither accepting or refusing tea. 

"Or something stronger," chimed in Salazar.

The infant in Filius' arms cooed, seeming to support the idea. Filius looked on with uncharacteristic dumbness.

Hermione turned her head to equally dumbly stare at Salazar.

"Hello, doll." His sing song voice rang out as he placed his half drunk bottle of firewiskey on the tea table and slid it her way. 

"Let me see that little one," Pomona murmured, reaching to take the baby from Filius.

Remembering her manners, Hermione muttered a quiet "Thank you" for the alcohol and cast a multiplying charm on the the contents of the bottle. Pouring herself a glass, she gave the bottle back to Salazar. 

"What.. is happening here?" Hermione asked, looking at each of the founders in turn. Then at Ron and Pomona. 

Ron shrugged his shoulders. "We are just as curious as you are," he said.

Godric gave a long intake of breath and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "In short... we made this castle to be its own entity. It is equipped with its own vital force. It has the ability to perform many feats, one of them to alter the space within it. You have seen the use of this ability. The Room Of Requirement is Hogwarts' most widely known altered space because that is the place that Hogwarts deems appropriate to make most widely available. However, any space in Hogwarts can be altered if earnestly and honestly needed. Hence the added room in which you find yourself sitting. Another is that it can infuse the spirits of we four into our two-dimensional portrait selves. This works roughly as though it were half ressurection, half sorcerer stone, having properties of each. The castle has the capacity to recall spirits from death when we incite it to. But the act can only be borne of earnest need, as is the case with altered space... When previously we were paintings imbued with the essences of our souls that last were ours when alive, the castle essentially poured our souls from our afterlives into our portrait selves. We are now living beings with our current souls intact, thus enabling us to step out of our portraits and converse with you freely as if we had not died. We are completely substantial. We have all our memories intact, and having been able to see the activities of the living from the afterlife, we know some of what has been happening. We don't watch everything of course, and watching from afar only provides so much insight. We are, therefore, far removed from all of you. However, when we are poured back into our portraits, our spirits will have our memories up to that point. Therefore, our new portrait selves will be imbued with our current essences and you won't have to content yourselves with talking to founders of your school who have no knowledge beyond the tenth century. We may only remain living for one hour. We didn't make the decision on a whim to present ourselves to you tonight. There is a very special reason we are here. And here she is, being passed around in this very room." 

"-A little young for the eight of us", interjected Salazar.

"Hush, you!" came from Helga.

Salazar flapped his lips mockingly.

"Quiet both of you! We - only - have - an - hour." Godric annunciated his words very loudly and clearly, as to be understood by grade schoolers. 

"Prude" was whispered from the armchair.

"Lech" was whispered back.

"Per usual Slytherpuff antics", was whispered to Hermione by Rowena, and Hermione gave a half smile.

Godric sighed, glaring at the ceiling and then continued. "This child will change all of your lives for the better, or for the worse, because wizarding Brittain will ride on her shoulders. She will be the backbone of your fight against evil forces, your source of light in the dark that will prevail. And if she succeeds, she will be the savior of wizarding Brittain and by extension, the wizarding world, indeed the world as a whole."

"We are here to bestow what gifts we can give upon the child," Rowena declared pointedly. 

-"Not that we don't believe that she can't save this world with the tip of her pinky nail," Godric broke in, smiling softly at the now squirming infant.

"May I?" Godric asked holding out his hands, and Pomona looked at Hermione. Hermione gave a nod, the last of her apprehension at finding the four Founders of Hogwarts alive, and in her chambers fading. 

"And, of course, we wouldn't miss the opportunity to meet this child that is prophesied to save Brittain," Rowena added.

Pride emanated from Godric's features as he held the baby in front of him. "You look like your father, ya do." 

"You've met Robert McGonagall?"

"Eh?" Looking Hermione's way, he cleared his throat. "Yes, I've met Robert. Curious fellow. Right, well. Let's get to the gifts." 

Still holding Minerva in front of him, when he turned his face toward the baby again, his hazel eyes were smiling and lucid.

His finger being squeezed by a small hand, he began: "You, my child, will do great things someday. May you be governed by the code of chivalry, your honor moving you to love honesty and integrity, your courage likewise to use fear to your advantage, and live up to your full potential in spite of such fear. May your courtesy move you to have a weakness for the weak. May you love justice, upholding fairness and equality. May the love of these virtues leave no room in your heart for hatred. May you command respect in any endeavor you undertake and may you be esteemed throughout the wizarding and muggle worlds. May your determination and daring initiative carry you places that we founders only dream possible. May you lead armies with a regality that rivals royalty and a dexterity that puts the most able generals to shame. May you be a hero for the light and a beacon in the dark.

"Helga? Would you like to go next my dear?" 

Helga took the child into her arms and gazed with motherly adoration. 

"Oh this sweet little lass.. May you value hard work, your diligence and dedication pushing you forward in your life goals. May you be patient, with others and yourself. It won't always be easy, love." She smirked teasingly at Salazar. "May you be tolerant, recognizing and accepting differences between yourself and others. May you be fiercely loyal, a faithful anchor to those you hold close to your heart, your constant commitment earning you loyalty and trust in return. May you also value loyalty and trustworthiness in others. May you be ever humble, genuinely accepting your faults and not flaunting your strengths for others to praise. Above all, may justice and fairness guide your actions. Yes, Godric has already bestowed upon you these gifts. Now you have a double dose! Triple dose, as you likely will possess much of these on your own. 

"Rowena?" She leaned over the table to hand over the baby.

Fairly purring at the invitation, Rowena stood to take the baby, carefully taking her seat again, rocking her softly when she started to whine. "Where to begin, little one, where to begin? May you be broad of vision and strong of mind and heart. May your mental sharpness and clever wit stump and charm in one fell blow. May your wisdom and intellect surpass that of the most learned masters. May you possess creativity and originality. May these traits ingrain in you a craving for change and may your intelligence remind you that life is a spinning bubble in the air, and that certain things need changing and others do not. May you accept what you can't change, but change what you can, and may you accept that the only thing constant is that change is inevitable, even if you are not the source. May you accept differences, flaws and changes in others as well as yourself. May you accept that good and evil work together in this world to create beautiful and horribly ugly things, and that we need evil to truly see, believe and find value in the good. 

"Sal?" 

"Mummy." Jealous of the attention being showered on another child, Rose was clamoring for purchase on the settee between her mother and Rowena. Rowena grinned affectionately and Hermione pulled the toddler up with them. She animated the little caricatures Ron had drawn while she and Filius were away. Rose entertained herself by chasing them around the room. One hid itself in Godric's beard and Godric gave a loud guffaw. "Now let's see you find it." Halfway through Salazar's gift giving, the small bunny was found.

Salazar took Minerva, cradling her in his arms as if she were his own. "Mm Hermione, I think she is a tad hungry." 

Hermione retrieved the bottle from the sack the elf had given her and gave it to Salazar. 

He thanked her and and strode to an alcove in which there was a window seat and sat. Propping Minerva up on his knees, he put a warming charm on the bottle and on the chilly window, then began feeding the baby. 

He gave a small laugh as tiny hands attempted to hold the bottle. "Eager sprout. Now then. Yes... You, dear one, have the potential to be exceedingly great. Distinct from your peers, you will be revered on a colossal scale, I've no doubt of this. May you be a crafty, mischievous rogue. May you be a relentless opportunist, making the most of the chances you are given, and a survivalist, cleverly using the resources at your disposal to your advantage. May you be ambitious and persistent. May you stand up for and work to protect those who are your own. May you be unafraid to resort to drastic measures when needed. The other founders' gifts will help you with knowing whether they are needed", he half joked. "May you learn from your mistakes. And I don't say that lightly. It took me years to place my values in the right order. To look past blood, to recognize that it is not blood that makes or breaks. And after that, I spent many more years too prideful to admit to my closest companions that I had failed all of us. Let the love that saved you, save you once again. If you prioritize the wrong things like I did, you will still be great. You will still be a driving force in the world. However that greatness will be tainted and will lead you all to ruin. Because with the will I know is inside you, whatever changes you implement in this world will be potent and will have a lasting impact." 

He stood, walking to Hermione and giving her the baby. 

Hermione burped the child and laid her gently in an intricately carved cradle.

Godric spoke up again. "These traits that we have bestowed on the child are gifts given freely. However, in order for them to be used, they must be accepted by the recipient. Most of them will undoubtedly be innate traits, and will simply multiply once she grows to an age to appreciate them." 

As Godric spoke, Hermione noticed a soft pallor was seeping into handsome features making him seem otherworldly. 

"Be not alarmed, love", Rowena assured from beside her, placing a slightly less than solid hand on her shoulder. "We are merely fading, is all. Our hour is drawing to a close and we will soon disappear from this world and continue our afterlives. You may keep our portraits here in the nursery if you'd like." 

There was a large painting on each of the four walls in the nursery. When she looked closely, she noticed that in every painting a transparent figure had materialized. She glanced at Rowena and was taken aback by the ethereal beauty she found staring at her.

"Rowena." She was scarcely able to gasp out the name.

"Hermione. Listen to me", Salazar pleaded. "Don't cry, sweetheart. Please. We were never meant to stay here. We came here with the purpose of seeing this child and giving what we could."

Touching her face, Hermione noticed that tears had sprang to her eyes. She looked at Salazar. She looked at the other founders and noticed, for the first time in the space of this hour, their utter transience. Godric told them that they would only be here for an hour, but that hour now seemed to be painfully short. She looked at Ron, Pomona and Filius and found that they were coping as well as she.

" 'Twill all be alright. All of you," Helga soothed tenderly. Their fading voices had taken on an echoey quality. 

Hermione now burst out in tears. Before anymore of their substance joined the world beyond, she gathered Rowena in a quick hug. Rowena was practically velvet air, and she moved on to the others, Ron, Pomona and Filius following suit. Rose, tired by this time, had found the child's bed in the corner and had been playing with things from the toy chest. She now came over to the crowd, happily waving her hands through "fuffy" as she was calling the founders, and each gave her barely there kisses, embraces and hair ruffles. 

Then one by one they floated over the child sleeping soundly in the cradle and kissed her an airy goodnight. As it wasn't truly goodbye. That thought gave Hermione peace. 

And then they were gone, leaving the four adults to comfort each other behind. Their counterparts were sleeping in their portraits.

* FUIL FÌOR-GHLAN AN-CÒMHNAIDH: Gaelic, PURE BLOOD AT ALL TIMES


End file.
